


Kiss and Tell

by Holde_Maid



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holde_Maid/pseuds/Holde_Maid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea for this story came from the "Kiss and Tell" challenge at HL_challenges at Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/community/hl_challenges</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: This is a MALE/MALE KISS AND TELL story! - I hope that does not make it rated "R" or some such?
> 
>  Original post: http://holde-maid.livejournal.com/6118.html
> 
> Disclaimer  
> The universes of Highlander: The Series, do not belong to me but, I think, to Davis/Panzer. So, not mine, and no harm or copy-right infringement intended, and certainly no money made.

"What, you kissed him, are you out of your mind?"

Methos answered Joe's exclamation with a brief self-conscious "Presumably, yes."

Dawson shook his head. When he had uttered his pet complaint that everybody came to Joe's with their problems, he had expected nothing even near the shock he had just received. Slowly recovering, he asked, "So what did he do?"

Methos opened his arms in a gesture of resignation. "I've no idea." Still, there WAS a glint in his eye, wasn't there? Was the ancient Immortal pulling Joe's leg or was he amused at his own expense? "I left when he started packing his things."

Yet another jolt went through Joe's mind. "He started packing?" Joe knew only too well what that meant. It meant the Immortal was ending his stay in Seacouver. It meant the Watchers had to track him afresh. It meant trouble and burning the midnight oil instead of playing the blues at the bar.  
He drew his hand over his face tiredly. Most of all, it meant essentially that the man had been hurt. This intrusion had obviously unsettled his core. Well, little wonder. You didn't just...  
   
Dawson stepped back when his unruly imagination suddenly put him in the other man's shoes. The flash of an image, too realistic for comfort. Oh, golly, another unsavoury thought he'd be carrying around for days, thanks to the old man.

He shook his head. No, he must concentrate on the practical side. Call the Watchers. Yes, that was right, call the Watchers. He picked up the phone ... and put the receiver back. No, better not.  
His experienced eyes scanned the room, refusing to rest on the Immortal standing opposite him. Everything was in order for tonight. Well, sufficiently in order. Good.

"I'm going to the loft," Dawson announced.

"I'll give you a lift," Methos rejoined.

The drive seemed endless. Methos kept a guilty silence and Joe couldn't bring himself to start a conversation. Arriving, he found the loft as empty as the dojo downstairs.

Joe re-entered the car, took out his cell-phone and switched it on. Catching Methos' eager gaze, he opened the door again. While he was trying to get out, the little thing buzzed. He had received a text message.  
He swung his prosthetics back inside. "We're going to the Island."

Another drive in uncomfortable silence. This time Methos did leave the car, but only to row Dawson across the lake, to MacLeod's Island. He stayed in the boat.  
   


Little later, Joe was facing Duncan MacLeod, who was having a barbeque and watching the flames pensively. "You ok?"

Duncan nodded, smiling.

"Then why are you here?"

"Methos brought you here?" A wicked smile flashed. "Between the two of us, I had to teach him a lesson." He winked. "Want one of the sausages?"  
   
Why not? Let Methos wait. It was the least deserved for his stunt. 

And after all, kiss and tell was _NOT_ good style.  
   
   



End file.
